Drabbles
by Sogo
Summary: A collection of entries for Year Four of The Houses Competition
1. Voices of Ghosts

House: Gryffindor

Year: 6

Category: Drabble

Prompt: {Character} Susan Bones; [Weather] Sunny, but very cold; [Setting] Graveyard; [Action] Digging (kind of)

Word Count: 688

_Voices of Ghosts_

It was sunny, but very cold. The weather was just starting to turn away from winter, with the snow gone, but the ground was still frozen solid, making digging difficult. This last note would not normally be of any consequence to Susan Bones, who had been an Auror for the past five years now, had she not been standing in muggle garb just outside of what appeared to be the start of an archeology site.

On most cases, she'd have a partner, but as they seemed to be hitting a bit of a busy streak, she was on her own to cover this call. It wasn't likely to be a dangerous call, anyways. An undercover wizard at the site had noticed something he thought was magical, and had placed a call to the authorities to check it out.

Likely, all Susan would have to do was confirm the object in question was magical, wipe the minds of those who found it, and bring the object back to the ministry where someone with actual experience in the field could further classify it.

Her contact was a younger man named Nigel Ashworth, who had been a Ravenclaw a few years below her in school. A half-blood who had suffered greatly while the school had changed hands her seventh year, Nigel had decided to pursue muggle university after graduating Hogwarts. He was currently interning with the professor in charge of surveying the site after a muggle businessman had decided he wished to develop the land.

"Thanks for coming so quickly," Nigel greeted her as he slipped away.

"Just make sure I'm not wasting my time," Susan answered, but she was smiling as she teased. "What did you find?"

"I'm not really sure," Nigel admitted. "It's been… _odd_ here, you know? There's been a feeling since we really got started, and we haven't made much progress what with the temperatures, but it's only gotten worse."

Susan inclined her head. She could feel it too.

"Anyways, a few hours ago, we found this." Nigel slid a clear white crystal from his pocket. "It's obviously magical, and the scans we've taken indicate there's a lot more of them in that area."

Susan blinked. "That's a recording crystal."

"What?" Nigel frowned.

"A recording crystal. You know, make a silly recording of your voice, play it back for your friends?" She slipped her wand out of her sleeve. "We used to use them all the time when we were kids."

"Never used one," Nigel admitted.

"Too bad, they're fun," Susan said, grinning. "There's a lot of settings to warp your voice and things. Let's see what this one says, shall we?"

"Alright," Nigel agreed, matching her grin, relaxing now that he knew the stones weren't dangerous.

Susan held the stone in one hand and tapped it with her wand. The crystal grew warm, and then-

A soft voice, female.

"_Let this be a record of us for any who come after._" There was a shaky inhale. "_My name is Miriam Kestler. I am fifty-six years old. I am a muggleborn. Tomorrow I will die._"

Susan's face was ashen as there was the sound of rustling, and then a new voice, younger, male. "_My name is Zachary Gressen. I am nineteen years old. I am a muggleborn. Tomorrow I will die._"

There was the sound again of the crystal being passed to a new person, but Susan acted quickly and stopped it from playing. She looked up to see Nigel, who was as pale as she was.

"This is… it's a recording from the Azkard Camp," she said, eyes wide. Azkard was one of three camps that had housed muggleborns during the war with Voldemort. The other two had been liberated as soon as Voldemort had fallen. The third, no one had been able to locate. The only reason they knew it existed was from occasional references in memos recovered from the residences of high ranking death eaters. Those who were interred there did not leave.

Susan turned to look at the dig site, eyes wide with horror.

"This is no dig site, Nigel. It's a _graveyard_."


	2. Woman of the Woods

House: Gryffindor

Year: 6

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Time Period] Pre-Founders Era

Word Count: 1157

_Woman of the Woods_

She knows she is different.

Injuries heal quickly, those that even manage to touch her in the first place. The hardest jobs pass her over, as do the eyes of those who assign them. The flowers in the garden bloom a little more strongly after she's been there.

These are tiny details. Almost unnoticeable. Except for that someone does notice.

He has been in service of the Lord for much longer than she has. She is a child, he is already going grey at the temples. His voice is calm as he takes her aside one day to explain her gift of magic.

Her eyes grow wide as he speaks, thinking of stories she's heard. Wizards are powerful beings, stronger than any could rightly say, and could she learn to do that as well? The Lord has a Wizard that serves him, and the Wizard is treated much better than any simple servant, such as herself. Could it be that someday she, too, could be like that?

But no.

He rests a hand on her shoulder, explaining that it is only the most powerful of Wizards who can claim such a position. Those who have traveled far and studied much of magic and its uses.

She has no ability to travel, no wealthy patron who will sponsor her.

All the answers of the universe have been dropped into her lap. And yet she can reach none of them.

But that isn't strictly true, either, because this servant who found her will teach her all he knows.

It doesn't take long.

He has been around longer than she, but he has only received the minimum of teaching, and can only pass on what he knows. She is fast to learn, eager to absorb all she can of this new power. It's far too soon that he has reached the edge of his knowledge.

She can now make herself unnoticed as she walks the streets. She can cause the plants in the gardens to grow much stronger, much more quickly. She can repair broken items by running a finger along the seam.

It isn't enough.

She watches the Lord's Wizard, sometimes, and how his magic works. The Wizard has tools and she does not, but that does not mean that she cannot adapt what he does for herself.

It is then she begins to understand the truth that has been lurking just in front of her since the start. She is powerful. Much more so than the fellow servant who found her, and even the Wizard who parades about the castle, demanding the others obey his commands.

She learns from this Wizard how to cast illusions that ensnare the senses. She learns to call things to herself from across the room. She learns to cause a man to fall asleep from a distance, without laying a hand on him.

This Wizard, for all that he props himself up with his fancy words and showy ways, can not teach her any more. She is stronger than he is.

It is then that she finally sets out, thieving food from the kitchens and a horse from the stables. Illusions woven in the minds of those around her ensure none will come looking. Her first teacher is the only one to know the truth, and he sees her off with both pride and resignation.

At first she wanders, but eventually she learns to _listen_. The woods whisper words of power to those with the patience to hear them. The animals speak with distinct voice and words to those who deign to comprehend them. And in towns, she hears tales of others with gifts such as hers.

She never spends long with the others she finds. She trades tips and tricks with them, but that is all. The longest she takes is a few months with an old woman living on the edge of a forest who has learned to mix the bounty of the forest into creations of life and death.

But most of her time is spent wandering the woods themselves, listening, learning, becoming _more_. She knows she is getting older now, but her time with the wild magic keeps her young, strong, powerful. The world is vast, and now it is open to her.

Only it isn't.

Because in the eyes of the world, she is a woman. Weak. Helpless.

It's an image she cultivates on occasion, but she prefers to look as she does. As she is. A being of strength. When her looks are not enough to turn away bandits and the like, the fact that she can throw them across a clearing without laying a hand on them usually is.

She could rule this world. But these barbarians are beneath her. The woods are where she truly belongs.

She finds other children in her travels, too, unknowingly gifted like she once was. She teaches them what she can, but she never stays for long, continuing onwards. For a long time, she has no destination in mind, no real idea where she is going.

Then, she meets _him_.

He is a Lord, like the one she once worked for. His looks are more striking than handsome, and he is not gifted like she is.

It is not love, what they have.

She wants someone with wealth, to care for her. He wants an heir, and desires to possess the wild woman from the woods. She allows him to think he has caught her, entranced her, and wonders if he knows it is the other way around.

She lives in a castle then, wanting for nothing, but finds herself often staring out at the forest that for so long taught her. It calls to her, tempts her, and she knows that she has only scraped the surface of the deeper magics that exist out there.

But patience. She must have patience.

Because she has seen things out there, in those woods, whispers of things that will come. Her son will be born soon, and he will go on to do great things, not in the woods, but in the world. For the children she could teach and the many more she couldn't.

She will teach him, of course. Stay with him until he knows all that she does, of the wily ways of magic and the world. Until he can _listen_ as she can.

And when he can, she will leave this world and return to the woods, to learn more of the magics still hidden to her. She dreams of that, of the trees beckoning, inviting her deeper within. The danger that surrounds it only makes it that much more appealing.

But first, first her son must come. She will name him for the first animal she heard whispering to her in those early days in the forest. The name it whispered to her when she first began whispering back.

She will name him for the snake.

_Salazar._


	3. Not the Wasabi

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Food] Sushi

Word Count: 470

**Not the Wasabi**

"No, wait, I've got this," Ron declared. "So I hold the first wand still and then the second one-"

"They're _chopsticks_, Ron, not wands," Hermione groaned. She looked over to where Harry sat, looking faintly amused at the exchange. "You can jump in at any time, you know!"

"But where's the fun in that?" he asked brightly, expertly using his own chopsticks to steal a piece of sushi off of Ron's plate. Of course there were several pieces of the same roll still on the platter they shared, but just taking those wasn't nearly as good at needling Ron into learning how to use the proper utensils.

"Oi!" Ron protested immediately. "That was mine!"

Harry made a big show of chewing and swallowing the piece. "And now it's mine."

"Honestly, Ron, if it's that much trouble, just use your fork!" Hermione complained, throwing her arms into the air.

"But I'm trying to blend in with the muggles here!" Ron argued. "I don't want to stand out! Come on, how do I hold this other one?"

"Like this," Harry answered, demonstrating by stealing another piece of sushi from Ron's plate.

Ron threw one of his chopsticks at him. Harry caught it mid-flight.

"Are you having a bit of trouble with the chopsticks, sir?" asked a voice, and the three tablemates looked over to see their waitress.

"No," Ron denied immediately. "I've got this _completely_ figured out, I really do-"

"Because if you are," the waitress continued, "you might find this helpful." She held out a small piece of plastic with two slots for the chopsticks to be inserted in, clearly meant to assist someone in using them.

"_Yes_, thank you," Hermione said immediately, grabbing it. "Chopsticks, Ron."

Ron handed over the one chopstick he still held, and though Harry gave Hermione puppy dog eyes in protest, he handed the other over in only a moment. Hermione expertly snapped the thin bamboo rods into place and passed them back over to Ron. "Try that."

It only took him a second to figure out how to use the adjusted utensils. "Hey, this is much better!" he cheered, finally catching his own piece of sushi.

"So?" Hermione asked. "What do you think?"

Ron chewed carefully. "I dunno. Little weird, I guess. Why do people want to eat raw fish, anyways?"

"It's not all raw fish," Hermione sighed. "Some of it's cooked, and sushi actually refers to the rice, not the fish, so there are a lot of different things you can have in a roll, li- No, Ron, don't eat that!"

It was a little too late, however, as Ron immediately broke off into a hacking cough, eyes watering.

Hermione brought a hand to her head. "...He ate the wasabi."

"He ate the wasabi," Harry agreed, stealing another piece of sushi from Ron's plate.


	4. Extra Lives

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Action] Playing a video game for the first time

Word Count: 1077

**Extra Lives**

"We have made a mistake," Harry declared, eyes wide as he stared at his best friend.

"We have made a _terrible_ mistake," Hermione agreed, looking just as shocked as she stared at Ron.

"A _huge_ mistake."

"The worst mistake we could have possibly made."

"The worst mistake in the history of ever."

"...Excepting your parent's decision of changing secret keepers."

"Excepting my parent's decision of changing secret keepers," Harry allowed. "What have you done?"

"What have _we_ done?" Hermione corrected.

"What have _we _done?" Harry amended.

To be honest, it hadn't seemed like a monumental decision at the time. It was just that Hermione had been going over the list of things that Harry had been deprived of in his childhood and discovered that, on top of a veritable mountain of other things, Harry had never previously been to an arcade.

The two of them had decided to rectify that. As Harry had no idea what he was doing, Hermione had come up with the idea of the small arcade near where she'd grown up. It wasn't a place she'd frequented often ("_I'd always prefered staring at the written word to staring at a screen. You learn a lot more from books." "But screens are interactive!"_), but it was familiar and therefore only a quick apparition away.

It had seemed a simple task. Pop in, enjoy the games for a bit, stop somewhere for lunch, and head home. Harry didn't have the overwhelming desire to spend hours there, and Hermione had never been a video game person anyways. Harry had figured if he really enjoyed the experience, it wouldn't be hard to come back another time, when Hermione wasn't with him.

There was exactly one thing, however, neither of them had counted on.

Ron.

It wasn't like it was a bad thing. Ron was, in an attempt to better understand where Hermione came from, throwing himself wholeheartedly into understanding the muggle world.

He was getting a lot better. His clothing choices were much more sedate, he could navigate the Underground without any _incidents_, and the previous week, he'd finally started to consistently nail the correct pronunciation of "electricity".

When he'd heard that Harry and Hermione were heading out for some "muggle childhood ritual thingy", he'd immediately jumped at the chance to try it out. Harry had figured it was supposed to be something done with friends anyways, Hermione had decided it couldn't really hurt anything, and Ron had therefore been given the chance to come along.

That was the mistake.

Having mastered muggle money somewhere along the way ("_You know, having everything in tens really _does _make it easier, I wonder why we don't do that." "Because of highbound traditionalists who wouldn't know a good idea if it danced starkers in front of them."_), Ron was given enough coins to play a dozen games or so. Harry and Hermione each had the same. It should have been a simple, easy operation.

It was not.

It was _so_ not.

"For the record," Hermione told Harry seriously, "I blame you."

"Funny," Harry retorted. "I distinctly remember _you_ saying that we should let him come."

"No, that was _definitely _you."

"Slander and lies."

"_Definitely you_."

Harry had jumped from machine to machine like a giddy child, trying out game after game he'd only ever heard about growing up (usually from Dudley, who was loudly complaining after losing a game for one reason or another). He hadn't been particularly good at any, and headed over to Hermione after his coins had run out.

Hermione had stuck to a few games she was actually decent at, which meant that Harry got to see her tear up a few high levels of _Centipede_ before her luck ran out. He was more amused by her cursing out the machine than anything else. It was at about that time the two of them realized that neither of them had any idea where Ron was.

This led to a bit of panic. For all that Ron was getting better at navigating the muggle world, he was still very clueless about large portions of it. The last time he'd wandered off (at an amusement park, and hadn't _that _been an adventure), they'd found him loudly decrying the food people could get at the food stands with all the fervour of a religious zealot.

("_...so turn away from this horrid place, turn away your children, don't allow them to-"_

"_Ron! You know that hot dogs don't actually have any dogs in them, don't you?"_

"_...My mistake, everyone! Carry on!"_)

(Actually, they'd been lucky the vendors had thought it both hilarious and a great way to drum up business and that they didn't call security.)

Hermione had been ready to run out of the arcade in search of her wayward boyfriend, but Harry had insisted on a look around the premise first. And it was lucky they had.

Ron, it seemed, had stationed himself at a _Pac-Man_ terminal in the back, and proceeded to play.

And play.

And play.

There was quite a crowd of kids gathered around him at that point, gasping in excitement and yelling out helpful (and often conflicting) advice as they watched. Finally, though, something happened, and Ron sighed while all the kids cheered in excitement. His friends watched as Ron, with instructions from the kids, struggled to input his name into the high score slot.

"Congratulations," Harry told him, clapping him on the back as he stepped away from the machine and one of the other kids took over. "High scorers buy lunch, you know."

Ron maturely stuck his tongue out. "Not how I remember it, mate. Besides, still have to work through the rest of the coins, right? Which game should I try next?"

Harry had a sudden and intense sense of foreboding. "...Next?"

"Yeah, I mean, that first one was fun, so I'm excited to try some of the others!"

"...You mean that was your first one?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You were saying something about a donkey game earlier, right? Where's that one?"

(As it turned out, several of the kids who'd been watching him were very eager to point it out.)

(Harry and Hermione were… less so.)

"We've created a monster," Hermione moaned as Ron successfully completed yet another set of levels, prompting the speed to once again increase.

"We're never coming here again," Harry decided. "Never."

"...I don't think we're going to be getting lunch anytime soon either."


	5. Ron Weasley vs Crepes

House: Gryffindor

Year: 6

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Food] Pancakes/Crepes

Word Count: 238

**Ron Weasley vs Crepes**

Ron poked at the flat food on his plate dubiously. "What, I'm just supposed to eat it?"

"Ron, stop poking at your crepe," Hermione instructed. "Harry, stop snickering and show him what he's supposed to do."

"I'm not snickering!" Harry lied immediately, but he did as he was told anyways. "Look, mate, you don't just eat it flat. You put something in it, roll it up, and eat it like that."

Ron eyed the bowls of toppings in front of him, taking in what looked to be a couple bowls of fruits in syrup, butter, a white powder, and something that looked like it was probably chocolatey. "What am I supposed to put in it?"

"Whatever you want," Harry sighed, looking exasperated. "Strawberries, blueberries, butter and powdered sugar, or Nutella. Or some combination of them. It's up to you, that's the point."

"Nutella?" Ron repeated.

"That's…" Harry trailed off, thinking better of it. "No, I'm not even getting into that one. It's chocolate, Ron, spreadable chocolate."

"Oh. But why isn't Hermione using them?"

"Because _Hermione_ prefers something a bit more substantial than sugar," Hermione answered primly, rounding the table to sit down with her own plate, containing a pair of crepes filled with ham and cheese.

"Come on, it's not hard," Harry pressed. "Just pick a topping. Put a bit on the crepe. Roll it up. Eat it. Like a tortilla."

Ron blinked. "...What's a tortilla?"

Harry groaned.


	6. Ludicrous Conversations

House: Gryffindor

Year: 6

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Romantic Pairing] Flitwick and Sprout

Word Count: 1023

**Ludicrous Conversation**

Hermione was not known for having a large number of female friends. But she didn't exactly want to go out of her way to alienate them either, which meant that when she was invited to an all-girls "Yay we survived Voldemort even if we're all going to have to do another year of school let's have _fun_ with it" slumber party, she agreed to attend. Even if she thought it was probably a terrible idea.

To be fair, it wasn't all bad. There had been food and drinks, and now the girls had gathered up to gossip. Which wasn't exactly her favorite pastime, but it was something she could deal with.

Or, at least she _thought_ it was, until Hannah Abbott flopped down on a pillow and said, in a demanding tone, "Okay. Flitwick and Sprout."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

Hannah looked oddly at her. "What do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" Hermione asked, lost.

The girls around her giggled before Hannah clarified. "You really don't do this much, do you. Flitwick and Sprout. What do you think of them as a couple?"

"Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout are a couple?" Hermione demanded, eyebrows raising. She didn't think she was _that _far out of the loop.

"That doesn't matter," Susan Bones dismissed. "What matters is if they _could _be. Which they could. Possibly."

"It's a hypothetical situation," Padma Patil explained. "What do you think of them as a couple?"

"I think they'd be cute together," Parvati Patil sighed, a smile on her face. "She could bring him flowers, and he could charm them to sing…"

Hermione reflected on the actual likely outcome of singing flowers. "Wouldn't that get annoying, though?"

"You're really missing the point here," Padma complained.

"I'm sorry, aren't there enough couples at Hogwarts to gossip about?" Hermione argued.

"How are you and Ron doing?" Tracey Davis retorted.

Hermione shut up.

"So, Flitwick and Sprout," Parvati reiterated.

"She's taller than him, but not _overly_ so," Susan mused. "I could see it."

Hannah snorted. "You don't get to comment on that. You think that McGonagall and Snape would have made a cute couple."

Susan nodded solemnly. "And I stand by that."

Parvati made a gagging noise.

"But do we have to talk about couples at all?" Hermione tried. "I mean, there have to be a lot of other things to discuss, right?"

All the other girls looked at her.

"I mean…" Padma said slowly, "you could always join Daphne and Mandy in their… discussion."

The group all turned to look at where Mandy Brocklehurst and Daphne Greengrass were laying near the wall. The two of them had so far consumed two shots of firewhisky a piece and proceeded to begin an overly complicated discourse that had probably started out logical, but had completely derailed somewhere along the lines.

"...don't care about the precedent," Daphne was arguing. "You can't use quantum physics as a basis of an argument for a rhetorical debate!"

"Ah," Mandy countered, raising a finger. "But if I do, and no one is around to hear it, can it really be said that I did?"

Daphne threw her hands into the air. "That is both a fallacious statement _and_ a moot point!"

Hermione looked back at the other girls. "...You may have a point."

"Of course I have a point," Padma agreed. "I always have a point. I am the _master_ of having points."

Hermione privately wondered exactly how many shots of firewhiskey Padma had taken.

"So Flitwick and Sprout," Hannah said loudly, trying to drag the conversation back on track. "Do they hold hands in the halls?"

"Absolutely," Susan agreed. "And they're all adorable about it, too. Like, they don't want to be caught by the students but they can't help it, and they blush when someone starts looking at them a little too closely but not enough to actually do anything about it, and also-"

"Picnics in the greenhouses," Parvati sighed, a wistful look in her eyes. "She brings fresh fruit and he charms music to play-"

"This is completely ludicrous," Hermione muttered.

"He sends her chocolate, too!" Padma added. "Lots of chocolate! All the chocolate!"

"Let's hope not," Hannah giggled. "I mean, if Honeydukes is sold out, what does that mean for us? Where would we get _our_ chocolate?"

"In literally any muggle town anywhere?" Hermione asked, and was subsequently ignored.

"On their picnics, do you think they have any after dark?" Tracey wondered. "Like, lit by candles?"

"He could charm them, and she could get the Devil's Snare to hold them!" Hannah enthused.

"That wouldn't actually work," Hermione tried to point out. "Devil's Snare doesn't like the light."

Padma nudged her. "Come on, these are just for fun."

"You can have fun with an actually plausible scenario," Hermione argued.

"Like…?" Susan baited, a smile on her face.

"Like… Oh, I don't know! Like, maybe they grade papers together! They're both teachers!"

"Boo!" Parvati called. "Boring!"

"They could take walks along the edge of the forest from time to time," Hermione suggested. "To keep an eye on the local flora!"

"Ooh, that's actually cute," Tracey commented, grinning.

"Or… Or maybe they take a night and head up to the Astronomy Tower, and have a picnic there," Hermione finished. "It's not right where either of them work, and they spend time looking at the stars and talking about… things as _ridiculous_ as _this_!"

There was a pause.

Against the wall, Mandy groaned. "I said _metaphysical_, not _metaphorical_! And even if I hadn't-"

"Well, that's less boring, I suppose," Padma said slowly, ignoring the argument behind them. "Even if it's ludicrous."

"You just wanted the Devil's Snare to hold candles for them," Hermione pointed out wryly.

"Well, yeah, but I'm pretty sure teachers talk about stuff more substantial than _this_."

0o0

Up in the Astronomy Tower, Filius Flitwick sighed as he leaned against Pomona Sprout, looking upwards at the stars filling the sky above them.

"It's a beautiful night," Sprout said with a smile.

"It is," Flitwick agreed, before looking towards her with a wicked smile on his face. "So… what did you think about Minerva and Severus?"


	7. Muggle Methodology

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Object] A School Desk

Word Count: 285

**Muggle Methodology**

"This may just be the greatest idea you've ever had, brother mine."

"A ludicrous statement. We both know the greatest idea I ever had was the vomiting spider."

Fred took a step back to admire his handy work. Above him, a teacher's desk hung from the ceiling, suspended by chains. It was hard to see from the ground, being mostly concealed in the shadows of the rafters. "Beautiful."

George stepped back next to him. "A work of art," he agreed.

It really was. In order to ensure they couldn't be caught, the two had planned this particular prank without using a touch of magic. The desk had been raised manuely, the chains stolen from Filch, and even the thin trip wire strung along the ground beneath it had been placed by hand.

"Right good of Professor Burbage to slip us that book on Muggle pranks, wasn't it?" Fred asked brightly.

"We can't forget good old Hermione's advice, either," George added. "Never would have gotten the point of pulleys without her."

"Shall we go, then?" Fred questioned brightly, offering his brother his arm.

"I think we shall," George replied, taking his brother's arm with an exaggerated bow. The two of them mockingly swaggered out the door. "When exactly _is _the toad's next class, anyways?"

"Oh, half and hour from now or so," Fred recalled. "Plenty of time to establish an alibi. And I think that little prank should make Harry's day!"

(And, thirty-two minutes later, when an irate Professor Umbridge tripped the wire while searching for her desk (and promptly discovered both her desk's location and the fact that most of her students were not interested in running particularly quickly to the hospital wing), it did.)


	8. The Halfblood's Heart

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Couple] Rubeus Hagrid and Tom Riddle (not Voldemort)

Word Count: 1127

**The Halfblood's Heart**

Tom Riddle was a planner. He had plans within plans, as any good Slytherin should. He had plans for when he was forced to return to that wretched orphanage (of the terrorizing sort), he had plans for where his life would go after Hogwarts (also of the terrorizing sort), and he had plans for what exactly he'd do as soon as he cracked the mystery of the location of Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets (and let's just say that Tom was of the terrorizing sort and leave it at that).

He did _not_ have a plan for Rubeus Hagrid.

0o0

The whole thing had started innocently enough.

Tom had always been an excellent student. He had to be. It, along with his charm, marked him as the favored student of nearly every Hogwarts professor, a status that earned him protection from the Slytherin purebloods who were eager to mock the Mudblood orphan. (One day, he would show them. He'd show them _all._)

However, in addition to his protected status, it also meant that he was occasionally called upon for tutoring. For a wide variety of students in a number of different houses. It was in his fifth year that he was called upon to tutor one Rubeus Hagrid in the basics of Charms.

And at first, things were easy.

The boy, Hagrid, was an idiot.

It was rare he would understand anything from his classes the first time through. In fact, it was often the fifth or sixth time through that he finally got it. It drove Tom up the wall, with how many times he had to repeat himself, each time in a slightly different way, trying to find _any _method to _make him understand_.

Only, after a few months, it wasn't the fifth or sixth time anymore.

Tom didn't realize it right away, but little by little, explaining things to Hagrid became easier. He began to recognize how the boy learned, and was able to tailor their sessions to that method. And Hagrid may well have been the only person who didn't hate him at the start-despite being a Gryffindor, he'd never bothered much with the house rivalries outside of cheering for his team at the Quidditch matches, and _being_ a Gryffindor, he couldn't care less about blood status.

Not to mention, Hagrid had problems of his own in that regard. Anyone with eyes could see the third-year was part giant, and that meant the bullying eclipsed even Tom's own. Tom's, after all, rarely ventured outside Slytherin, but Hagrid had to deal with bullying and suspicion from all four houses, including his own. Yet he never let that stop him.

And Hagrid was kind. Despite the prejudice, despite the hatred he faced on a daily basis, the boy was constantly caring for one creature or another. Tom had watched him bandage wounds of the most vicious beasts, caring nothing for the scratches and bites they might deliver, claiming that they were "only playing".

Even then, it wasn't until Tom realized he'd begun mentally referring to the boy as "Rubeus" that he admitted to himself he might have a problem.

0o0

Tom had been raised in the Muggle world.

(_The Muggle world was not the Magical one._)

He wasn't stupid.

(_You don't know the rules here._)

He'd seen what could happen if a boy liked another boy.

(_Things might be different._)

It was dangerous.

(_It could be wonderful._)

_Rubeus_ was dangerous.

(_Magical._)

Something would have to be done.

0o0

When Tom had first opened the Chamber of Secrets, he'd told the basilisk within to avoid the Gryffindor Rubeus Hagrid. It wasn't because of any soft spot, he insisted to himself. It was because Rubeus was very good with creatures, and it was very likely the boy could have identified the basilisk from the most inane details. Not to mention his giant blood. Who knew what sort of immunities his heritage granted him?

No, Tom had decided. It was best if Rubeus was kept away from the basilisk.

Now if only he could manage to keep Rubeus away from _himself_.

0o0

Tom had _plans_. Clever plans. Revenge plans.

Purebloods, he had realized early on, were _stupid._ They were so easy to manipulate, to make dance to his whims. It would be a simple matter, once he was grown, to cultivate them, point them at a specific target, and watch the spreading chaos. It would almost be fun. And it wasn't like they didn't deserve it.

In the end, when the dust settled, Tom would have his control of the Wizarding World. And then he could bring the Muggle World to heel. He would assume the name of Lord Voldemort and become the ruler of it all, and _no one_ would ever _dare_ to cross him again.

This had been his plan since he was young, since he'd first realized how the Wizarding World really worked. His status as the Heir of Slytherin could take him far, regardless of his actual blood status. He had never wavered in this goal, never hesitated, never slowed.

How could it be that this blasted _Gryffindor_ was actually making _him_ question his convictions?

Part of him pointed out that if he were in control of everything, he could make sure that no one ever hurt Rubeus again, too. The more cynical part yelled at that part to shut up, because Rubeus was a distraction, one that they couldn't afford.

It wasn't a choice Tom could make. In the end, it was impulsiveness that dictated his actions.

0o0

Tom hadn't meant for Hogwarts to shut down. It was just Mudbloods being hunted, after all. Since when had they mattered? No one had ever cared when it was _him_ being hurt.

But Myrtle was dead now, and unless Tom could figure out some scapegoat, Hogwarts was going to close, and he was going to be stuck in that orphanage with no way to defend himself year round.

Time was running out. There was no one to blame, no one to-

No.

There was one option.

Rubeus had shown his little acromantula off to Tom months ago. Allowing for the time to pass, the beast should be good sized by now. Large enough to scare someone. Large enough to convince the teachers they'd found the person responsible for the attacks.

And with the third-year's half giant status, no one would question it. A stupid, violent half breed would slip through the cracks, and no one would care.

No one but Tom.

Tom took a stealing breath, brandished his wand, and went to confront the boy who would hold his heart for the rest of his life.

(_Rubeus Hagrid would never know the truth of the power he held over Tom Riddle. Not until after it was far, far too late._)


	9. Beetles and Beatles

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Drabble

Prompt: Tour a Yellow Submarine

Word Count: 344

**Beetles and Beatles**

Harry squinted at the map. "Are you sure this is the place?"

Ron shrugged. "No. Hermione said we were going on some sort of bug tour. I stopped listening after a while."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, I know Hermione may like boring things on occasion, but I highly doubt she'd sign us up for some sort of bug tour. That doesn't really sound like her kind of boring."

"I know!" Ron agreed. "But she was so excited, I just went along with it!"

"And she told you to meet her at something yellow?" Harry repeated.

"I wasn't listening, I told you!" Ron protested. "I'm sorry, I know I'm a terrible person, but she was talking about _bugs_, Harry! I'm only human!"

"I feel like we're missing something here," Harry frowned, lowering the map. His eyes fell on a group of excited tourists walking past. "Hang on…"

"I just feel bad, you know?" Ron continued. "Hermione is really looking forward to this, and I just can't get excited about bugs, because who gets excited about bugs? I mean, that one thing with Rita Skeeter notwithstanding-"

"I figured it out," Harry proclaimed. "I know where we have to meet Hermione."

"What?" Ron asked, coming out of his funk.

"And I think you might find this tour more fun than you think," Harry added, grinning.

0o0

"A yellow submarine?" Ron asked. "What does that have to do with bugs?"

"Not bugs," Harry corrected. "The Beatles."

"Like I said," Ron scowled. "Bugs."

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione came running up to them, looking cheerful. "I'm glad you made it!"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said brightly. "Ron's really excited to go on an informative insect tour."

"On a what?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Ron, it's a Beatles' tour, not anything about insects."

"...I'm confused," Ron admitted.

"...Let's add Muggle music to things we need to introduce Ron to," Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Good idea," Harry agreed. "Now let's see this Yellow Submarine tour! I have to warn you, if it's not decked out in horrid sixties floral print, I will be very disappointed…"


	10. A Cunning Twist

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Standard

Prompt: Rocking Out to Oldies

Word Count: 1023

**A Cunning Twist**

Harry looked up from his book (a rather interesting detective novel he was halfway through and only a quarter of the way solved) when Hermione came rushing in the door in a manner that more resembled Ron than herself, panting excitedly.

"Afternoon, Hermione," he greeted, straightening from his prone position on the couch. "You look like you've just had a breakthrough."

Hermione turned towards him, eyes glittering. "Oh, I have," she agreed, grinning. "A fantastic breakthrough! Something I've been working on for months!"

Unfortunately, when referring to Hermione Granger, the phrase "working on for months" actually did very little to narrow the subject in question down. It didn't help that Harry (and Ron) typically tuned out when Hermione started detailing whatever new project she was starting on.

"Erm, something with House Elf Rights?" Harry guessed, playing it safe.

Hermione huffed at that. "No, that's still going as slowly as ever. Something a bit less important, actually."

Harry racked his brain for anything Hermione would classify as "less important" and came up blank. Anything she was working on would be considered at least of equal status. "No idea. What is it, then?"

Hermione's expression shifted to something mischievous as she brandished the plastic bag in her hand. "I have finally figured out a way to safely introduce Ron to modern Muggle music!"

And, well, that sort of twisted Harry's mind around, because that was not at _all_ what he'd been expecting.

That's not to say it was entirely unexpected. Hermione had made it a recent life goal to teach Ron about the Muggle World. Harry helped out where he could, but his own fairly lacking experiences when it came to the wider world meant that half the time, it was his first time trying things out as well. (That didn't mean that Harry wasn't infinitely better at blending in in the Muggle World than Ron was, because Harry had been raised there and at least knew better than to try hexing a car because the horn surprised him.)

Ron wasn't great at picking things up, but he no longer referred to their telephone as a "fellytone", he hadn't tried to talk to the television in weeks, and Hermione had finally trained him to stop putting explodable things in the microwave.

On the other hand, Ron no longer referred to their telephone as a "fellytone", he hadn't tried to talk to the television in weeks, and Hermione had finally trained him to stop putting explodable things in the microwave. Those had been some of Harry's favorite sources of amusement.

But Muggle music…

The Wizarding World was, like in a wide number of areas since the Information Age had kicked off, several decades musically behind the Muggle one. Their popular, cutting edge bands played music in styles similar to what Muggles played in the forties, and the majority of magicals listened to music more reminiscent of the twenties.

Ron, like most magicals, had no idea what he was listening to when confronted with modern Muggle music.

"Didn't your last attempt make Ron splinch himself when he tried apparating away?" Harry asked dryly.

"Well, yes," Hermione admitted, cheeks pink. "I probably could have introduced him to something a little less volatile than heavy metal, but that was what was on the radio…"

Harry blinked, having never gotten the full story. "That explains _so much_."

"But this time," Hermione continued, "I have an actual plan!"

"I am apprehensive," Harry decided, setting his book down to steeple his fingers. "Yet intrigued."

Hermione pulled a CD from inside the plastic bag she was carrying. "Oldies. We start him with Elvis, move on to the Beatles, and then we can try some classic rock."

"So introduce him to the evolution of music?" Harry mused. "That could work."

"It means we really have to get into the old music, though," Hermione warned. "Prepare to seriously rock out."

"I can rock out to Elvis," Harry told her. "That will not be a problem. Are we actually going to explain what we're doing to him?"

"No, that will ruin the whole thing," Hermione answered, shaking her head. "You know how Ron feels about learning."

"So we _trick_ him into learning," Harry realized. "Devious. I like it."

"It's either that, or we start training him to like Muggle music through Pavlovian response."

"Admittedly not the best solution," Harry agreed. "He still starts scratching himself whenever he smells fish."

"That was a misguided attempt," Hermione admitted. "Which is why I'm dropping the idea of Pavlov for this. But if he wanders in on us rocking out to Elvis…"

"...We might finally get him interested enough to learn how to use the CD player," Harry finished. "Which is a good idea, seeing as how last time he set it on fire. Which was both impressive and terrifying."

"Mostly terrifying," Hermione decided, before shaking her head. "Regardless. Ron is going to be back soon. Will you help?"

Harry glanced back at his book for a long moment before deciding that no, baffling his friend was definitely a better use of his time. "Yeah, okay, I'm in."

0o0

Ron walked into the house to find Hermione twisting back and forth as she lowered to the ground and then rose back up. Harry was laughing loudly as he attempted the same action and proceeded to fall backwards, still laughing.

"I'm scared to ask," he declared, stepping into the room.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "Come join us! I'm trying to teach Harry to do the Twist!"

"And she's failing at it too," Harry added with a grin.

"You two look ridiculous," Ron decided.

"That's the point!" Hermione laughed.

"Really?" Ron asked dubiously.

"Eh. Probably," Harry agreed.

"It's fun either way," Hermione pointed out, holding a hand out. "Come on, Ron, it's easy and fun!"

"Think you can do better than me?" Harry challenged from where he was still on the ground.

Ron snorted. "Come on, Harry, I think _anyone_ could do better than _that_."

Hermione's grin widened and she cranked up the volume of the music. As Ron began to join them, Harry shot her a wink.

Part one of their mission? Accomplished.


	11. Practically Unperfect

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Musical

Prompt: Mary Poppins

Word Count: 913

**Practically Unperfect**

Mary Poppins walked briskly down the street, umbrella and bag in hand, steadfastly ignoring the shouting behind her. She never slowed or paused, even as her pursuer sped up.

"Mary! Wait, Mary!"

Finally realizing that the man would not let up until she acknowledged him, she sighed and came to a stop at the end of the block, waiting at the corner for him to catch up.

Breathing heavily, the man came to a stop next to her. "Wow," he gasped. "You certainly move fast when you want to."

Mary pursed her lips. "What do you want, Bert?"

"We need to talk," the man replied. "You're ignoring me."

"Perhaps I simply have better things to do than speak with you."

Bert took a moment to look around the darkened streets, and the lack of anyone around. The two stood under a streetlamp that cast a dim light about them, but there was no one else around.

"Like what?" he asked incredulously.

Mary didn't answer.

"You've been avoiding me," Bert continued after a moment.

"I haven't," Mary denied immediately.

"You _have_," he insisted. "You won't talk to me in public anymore. You ignore me when we pass. Last week, you even jumped a fence to get away from me!"

"You can't prove that."

"I don't need to prove it, I was _there_." Bert tapped his foot on the ground nervously. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

Mary sighed. "It's not what you did, it's what you're going to do."

"What I'm going to do?" he repeated incredulously. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

She looked away. "I should get going."

"You can't just go!" Bert protested. Before she'd taken more than two steps, he was calling after her. "Hermione!"

Mary spun on her heel, eyes blazing. "Don't," she said, voice trembling and cold. "Don't call me that."

"And why not?" he pressed. "It's your name. And it's not like there's anyone around to hear it."

"That's not the point!" Mary bit out. "That's not who I am anymore! It's not like I go around calling you 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', do I?"

"That's not the same thing," Bert argued. "It's not like I'd protest if you wanted to call me Harry every once in a while."

"But that's not who you are anymore, either!" Mary pointed out. "We've changed! We've _had_ to change!"

And it was true. They'd both changed since they'd arrived.

They'd been young, so young, when Voldemort had been defeated. They'd been young when the last hold out of his followers had attacked the Ministry. And they'd been young when chasing the final attackers through the bowels of the Department of Mysteries had sent the two of them falling through the Veil of Death.

Both had been certain they'd never wake up.

Instead they'd found themselves in a strange and foreign London, in a world without magic. Even their wands were gone. They'd still thought that maybe they could make something of their lives.

Only they couldn't.

Because while the Veil hadn't taken their lives, it had still taken something from each of them.

Harry had lost his magic. Completely. He was perfectly alright with this, all things considered. Even the marks on his body that had been made by magic faded, and he'd been quite happy to see the lightning bolt on his forehead disappear. The scars on his hand left by Umbridge's torture had been wiped away, as had the puncture mark left by the basilisk.

The scar on his arm left by Pettigrew on the night Voldemort had been resurrected remained, but Harry had been okay with that.

Hermione, however, had paid a different price.

Her life was no longer her own. She could feel a pull often to places and people where she was needed, and it was a pull she'd tried to ignore only once.

That had not ended well, to say the least.

So she'd learned to work her magic without a wand, to perform incredible feats to open the eyes of children to the wonders the world could hold, to be precisely where she needed to be, precisely when she needed to be. She had become Mary Poppins, nanny, and tried to forget the young witch she'd once been.

And instead of letting her forget, instead of building his own life away from her, Harry had followed her with a single minded determination.

At first, she hadn't minded much. It had been funny, the first time he'd showed up and introduced himself as Bert, a odd man who completed odd jobs, and was excited to be whipped away by her magic. The children had loved him, and she had… she had…

Well.

Suffice to say, what she had started to feel was not something that someone who had no control over the direction of their own life could afford to.

And now all she wanted was for him to _leave her alone_, and he just _wouldn't_.

He was just looking at her with those eyes that knew a little too much, saw just a little much of her.

"I don't think," he said quietly, "that you've changed nearly as much as you think you have."

She didn't answer again, turning her face so he couldn't see the fact that she agreed with him, even if she didn't want to. Even if she _couldn't_.

When Bert spoke again, his voice was soft, calming. "I love you, Mary."

And Hermione (_no, Mary, she was _Mary) fled.


	12. The Lab

House: Gryffindor

Year: Head

Category: Crossovers

Prompt: Sherlock

Word Count: 1077

**The Lab**

There was a lab next to the morgue.

This was… unexpected, to say the least. Sherlock was quite certain that the last time he'd checked, there had not been a lab here. In the very least, there had not been _this _lab here.

Scowling, he paced back and forth in front of the door, mentally revisiting every time in the past he'd walked down this hall. No, he was quite certain that he'd never seen the door to this lab before. It had not just not been here, it hadn't existed at all.

Which was completely impossible.

Furthermore, he realized, mentally calculating the length of the hallway, the size of the rooms, and the size of the exterior wall, the lab _could not exist_. The hallway was, somehow, right now longer than the outside wall. And he could see through the windows on both ends of the hall, so this wasn't some ridiculous trick.

Or was it? He hurried to one end of the hall and checked. No, that one was definitely a window. And the wall was positioned at a ninety degree angle to the floor. No tricks on this side.

The other was much the same.

Which still led to the question of what the impossible door was doing there and where exactly it led.

Only one way to find out.

Sherlock spun on his heel, strode to the door, and slammed it open.

"This," he announced loudly, taking in the sight of what almost seemed to be some sort of alchemical lab (WHAT?!), "can not exist."

The doctor within, a young woman with frizzy hair, looked up in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"This lab can not exist," Sherlock repeated. "It doesn't fit. It's too big. The hallway is larger than the building exterior. How is this possible?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the woman replied, still looking confused.

She was lying. She had to be. Sherlock looked her up and down, taking in the ink marks on her hand (from a quill?), the orange hairs on her jeans (from a long haired cat), and the ring on her finger (married, for several years, still happy).

She was dressed in typical bland clothing, something like John would wear (if John were a woman) with a white lab coat thrown over the top. Her arms were crossed as she glared at him, clearly not pleased with his assertion that her lab could not exist.

Which was ridiculous. Clearly the lab not only could not exist, but she knew all about it. Well, most likely.

"What sort of lab is this, anyways?" Sherlock continued, pressing forwards intensely. "Not exactly the usual sort of thing you'd find in a hospital."

"Did you not see the door?" the woman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stupid question. Of _course _he'd seen the door, that was the whole _point_. He'd seen the door, and the door had not made _sense_, and that was why he'd come in in the first place. Why was she even-?

Oh, she meant the _name_ on the door. Yes, he'd seen it, but as a door in a hospital reading "_Potions Lab; Doctor Hermione Granger, Potioneer_" was patently absurd, he'd immediately dismissed it.

Only… this did rather look like it could be a potions lab from the storybooks, if a bit more brightly lit and brought up to the standards of the modern era.

"So this is a… _potions_ lab, then?" Sherlock asked, distaste clear in his voice.

"Obviously," she replied in the same tone.

"Impossible," Sherlock dismissed.

The woman said nothing, simply raised the other eyebrow and looked about the room in an exaggerated manner.

"Dr. Granger, is it?" Sherlock asked.

"That's correct," the woman said. "And you are?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he answered. "How is it that this room didn't exist just yesterday?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Of course you are. And clearly this room existed yesterday. You can't just make a room appear out of thin air, after all."

"Then how did you do it?" Sherlock shot back.

Granger responded by swiftly crossing the room and beginning to shove him bodily out the door. "You're being ridiculous, and _I_ have work to do. Good _day_, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock turned around to protest, but she had already forced him from the lab and slammed the door. There was a sharp click as the lock engaged.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. He wasn't about to take this sitting down. He went to track down Molly.

0o0

"I'm telling you, Sherlock, there's never been a Dr. Granger at Barts! And we certainly don't have a _potions_ department, that's ludicrous!"

"But it was right here!" Sherlock shouted, pacing in front of the empty patch of wall next to the morgue, where the door to the lab had been. "The hallway was longer, and I saw the door and I went inside! And I _talked_ to her, only she obviously isn't here, and _it doesn't make sense_!"

Molly threw her hands into the air. "I can't deal with you when you're like this. Go bug John!"

Sherlock responded by pulling out his phone and texting furiously.

0o0

John ignored the buzzing phone in his pocket as he sat inside the potions lab that could no longer be accessed through the door at Barts. He held a cup of tea in one hand, offering a second cup to the second occupant of the room with a grin.

"Thanks, Hermione. That mystery should keep him occupied for at least a week."

Hermione grinned in response, accepting the tea. "Anything for my favorite cousin. From what you tell me, your wall will thank me."

"Very much so," John agreed. "The wall also owes you one."

Hermione snorted. "So how long are you going to keep him waiting?"

"Oh, I think I have an hour or so before he tries to track me through the GPS in my phone," John determined. "Maybe a bit less. Plenty of time to share a cuppa with _my_ favorite cousin."

0o0

It was just after John left that Hermione's phone buzzed. She fished it from her pocket to check it. An unknown number.

"_Officially, I can not condone your use of magic to prank my brother, as he is neither magical, nor in the know._"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course the current liaison between the Muggle and Magical governments would have an opinion on this.

Her phone buzzed again.

"_Unofficially, if needed, I have a few suggestions for next time._"


End file.
